A Very Merry Christmas
by silversparkles444
Summary: OC   Draco M. Just something I wrote around last Christmas, a cute love story. Please make reviews.


Em lifted the heavy Gothic doorknocker and let if fall with a thud. The door was immediately answered by invisible means. Then Em looked down and noticed the meek looking house elf whose eyes widened at her direct gaze and turned away.

"Why, Miss Gwydion! We have been waiting for you, we have. I should be in the hall setting up, but master Draco wanted us to wait for you.

"Thank you, dear." Em shed her fur robe and passed it off to another house elf that stood at her elbow, as the first scurried off to the hall. "'Scuse me! Where are-?"

"The young misters Malfoy, Zabini, and MacNair? They are in master Draco's room." The elf turned and broke into a run.

"Of course. I can arrive two hours early, and they aren't even all ready yet. They'll need help for sure at this point." Em lifted her floor length skirts to her knees and took the stairs two at a time. Not as quickly or as gracefully as she would have liked, though considering her stilettos, not too badly at all. At the top of the grand staircase, Em turned and inspected the entryway and glanced into the formal hall. As always, she could not fault Narcissa's decorating. Festive greenery with red and gold trimmings adorned the walls, banisters, and doorways. Hangings of mistletoe were about here and there, waiting for unsuspecting duos to chance beneath them. Green, red, and gold enchanted butterflies were already engaged in sparkling aerobatics that would continue for all the two weeks of festivities here. Doubtless, Narcissa was decorating the massive pine tree in the hall with all of the traditional holiday frill she could muster. It was just like every other winter holiday for as far back as Em could remember. Smiling, she turned to go give the boys the help they certainly needed. She almost ran right smack dab into her least favorite person in the entire house. Least favorite? No, she certainly resented him, perhaps even hated him.

He smiled, but it was cold. "Elizabeth Morgan, dear, you must be a bit more careful. I simply wouldn't be able to stand it if our holiday was denied your presence by an unfortunate accident." His long silver hair fell in cascades about his shoulders, perfectly complimenting the deep green of his robes.

"It is good to see you as well Mr. Malfoy. It has been so long."

"Come, dear. Let's not stand on formality. I've known you since you were a baby. You know I've told you to just call me Lucius." He caught Em in a hug that made her shiver.

"Of course Lucius, how could I forget?" He raised an eyebrow slightly at the subtle edge to her tone. "I was just on my way to join the boys in the pre-party festivity that is frantically picking robes that don't match, but don't clash either."

A half-smile lifted Lucius' lips. The girl always had had a sharp wit. "Very well then, Elizabeth. I'm sure they could use someone of your excellent tastes." With that, he descended the staircase in a cold swirl of green, silver, and attitude.

"Why that man insists on pestering me, I will never know." Em muttered to herself. When she got to Draco's room, she stood in the doorway for a few moments, not saying a word. She watched the three boys debate before sweeping in and taking charge.

"No, Draco most certainly can not wear green. Two reasons: Lucius is wearing those deep green robes that become him so well, and I am wearing shades of red, and I do not want to look like an extension of the decorations with any of you. Therefore," she continued, pushing past the boys to access the closet, "Draco shall wear the black velvet and silk, rich materials for a rich party." She thrust the robes to him, behind her. "Christopher, this indigo and silver will sit fabulously on your shoulders." He took his robe gratefully. "And Blaise, you know you look incredible in blue. It brings out your eyes." Blaise reached around her and picked exactly the robe she'd had in mind.

"And our cool tones will compliment, but not match, and allow you to stand out accordingly in this stunning sanguine get-up of yours." Blaise always had had the best eye for color out of all of the guys.

"There may be hope you all of you yet!" The tedious task of selecting clothing accomplished, the four old friends settled into routine and their usual seats in Draco's spacious bedroom. Draco, of course, was in the oversized armchair by the window. Em draped herself on a deeply cushioned chaise lounge to his right. Facing them, Christopher and Blaise propped themselves up with pillows, sitting on the edge of Draco's bed. It was still so comfortable. The three boys went to school together, at Hogwarts, but Em had not seen them since summer. It had been like this for ten years, with Em visiting England on holidays, first from Salem, then New Orleans. Still, it was always comfortable. From Em helping choose robes, to where they sat, to the knowing way Christopher reached under the bed and pulled out a box marked "Pre-Game".

The box was a tradition that had started only two years ago, right here in Draco's room, before the same first party of the season. Now all four of them had identical boxes under their beds, charmed only to appear by one of their touch. Each box held the same contents, restocking itself after each use from a well-provisioned cellar deep in the Gwydion mansion, outside London. It was the only place where parents wouldn't notice mysterious disappearances. Things like real vintage champagnes, bottles of rich port, strong fire whisky, and warm, mellow rum, with a glass for each person. There were cigarettes, old fashioned, American Lucky Strikes, and always a few Cuban cigars for Em.

"Wow," Christopher spoke as Em was lighting up, "you know, Em, that's just so strange on so many levels. Cigars usually summon images of stocky, old men in armchairs, or foreign dictators, not fifteen-year-old witches on chaise lounges. Besides, how can you stand those things?"

"Oh, it's mostly just something in the feeling of 'I'm a chick, smoking a cigar'."

"She means she likes it because it reminds her of a well proportioned..."

"Oh, cram it Blaise! Besides, it anyone would know that feeling, you would."

"Ugh! Em, what is it with you and all of this American slang? You've been home for three days already! Drop it!"

"Well, Draco, I've been there for ten years. Old habits die hard, and all that."

"At least you've still got your accent."

"I don't use it at home."

"You mean in the States. This is home."

"Yeah," she sighed, "this is home."

"But I do love that southern you've picked up. I hear it just on a word here and there. Do it Em, the southern belle one. It's classy."

"For Dixie land."

"I'll do it just for you Blaise. What do you want me to say?"

"Anything."

"Nothing."

"'Well, I declare!'"

"Swell choice Draco." She cleared her throat, setting up a dramatic moment, but at this point, it really came as naturally to her as the British. "Well! I declare! And I swear, Mr. MacNair, that if you roll your eyes at me one more time I will tear them right out of your head!"

"It's almost scarier when you say it like that Em. It sounds so preposterous, but you look like you mean it."

"Because I do. We southern belles aren't empty-headed dunces. We merely act that way to confuse everyone else."

"Correction," Draco interrupted, "Em, you are not a southern belle. You are a proper British lady, a witch of very pure blood. Don't malign yourself like that. You are still one of us."

"Whatever Draco. It's not like you'd be able to resist me anyway. None of y'all can nor could."

"Please, Em, enough of that. You know I can't stand it."

"Why do you think she persists in doing it Chris? She's just trying to get a rise out of you."

"Well, it's working. Those American magic types just don't... they aren't us. There's no purity there."

"You'd be quite surprised Christopher." Em had dropped her accent, and contradicted him quietly. Her eyes had glossed over slightly. She stared off at nothing.

"Em. Em! EM!" Draco reached out and shook her. She snapped to suddenly.

"Was I...?" Em asked. Draco nodded. The others looked confused. "Sorry. I'm just tired. Long trip." Em set down her empty glass and just felt the warmth of the alcohol in her skin. All of the adults thought that the kids were in good spirits from seeing each other again, and from enjoying the party. In truth, in the first twelve or thirteen years of their lives, they had simply become very good fakers. For the most part, they hated this party every year. It was all for the adults, talking and scheming with one another under the guise of a social event. All the attending offspring were supposed to be well-mannered, cordial, welcoming, and perfect, especially the hosts' child. Blaise, Christopher, and Em were often unofficially included as Malfoy children, since they stayed there during the holidays, and being tipsy made it easier for all four of them to spread holiday cheer to people to whom they'd rather spread the plague.

As the first guests would soon be arriving, the teens prepared to go downstairs. Christopher restashed the box and its contents under Draco's bed. Blaise traded his raven feather earring for a small, diamond stud. Draco and Em did touch-ups in front of the mirror. Everything ready, the quartet walked four abreast down the hall and the stairs looking every bit the darkened, pureblood aristocrats they were raised to be. Em walked between Blaise and Draco, and Christopher flanked Draco's other side. They swept into the hall, admiring the decorations, to find Lucius calming Narcissa and pushing a glass of wine into her hands.

"It will all be fine dear. We go through this every year. It will all be just fine." Lucius noticed them. "Oh, children, good. See, Narcissa, with such co-hosts as these, what could possible go wrong?" Lucius sounded a bit annoyed with his wife's hysterics, which died down after a few sips of wine. They really did go through this every year. It would not be Narcissa's only glass of wine tonight, but she would never let herself get drunk.

Narcissa looked over and smiled, looking quite relieved. "Elizabeth, child, I didn't realize you were even here yet. I didn't hear you come in." She cast a threatening glance at the nearest house elf.

"Oh, I didn't want to interrupt your final preparations. This place is a second home to me; I knew where to go."

"Well then. But it is ever so nice to see you, Elizabeth. I trust school and New Orleans are treating you well? You always did have the disposition for that environment, appropriately... dark, but so charming."

Em chose her words carefully. "Yes, it all suits me quite well. It's bringing out things I might never have realized here. It's just so different." That would be the canned response of the evening. Em didn't want to talk about school, or New Orleans, or how it "suited her".

The guests started to trickle in at nine'o'clock. By nine forty-five, the elves didn't even bother to close the door in between guests. By ten thirty, the hall was full of people, milling, eating, dancing, and enjoying the party. Anyone who was anyone of aristocratic wizardry was there. From sociable employees to colleagues, from those just high enough to be honored by an invitation to those high enough to simply expect one, they were there. Even Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic and his wife Georgette stopped by for a toast with Lucius and Narcissa. A brief and terse greeting to Em was all Fudge accorded to her, while her friends received warm inquiries into the status of family members and school. Fudge all but glared at Em as he left her presence.

"What was that about?" Blaise asked, watching the Fudges after they parted.

Christopher answered. "He hates the idea that Em here and her mother live in the States, but are citizens here, and can still sit council. And he hates even more that it's Em who sits. My dad tells me that your mom sits less and less lately, Em."

"My dad's mentioned it too," Draco added. "It seems that many of the older members resent the pull your name has in council, Em. At least your mum was only a year or two behind my mum and dad. You're, well, young enough to be their daughter."

"Oh," Christopher cut back in, "and speaking of your mother, will we be having the pleasure of Vivian's company tonight?"

"No. She's spending the holiday with some family this year. She hasn't seen them in some time. Besides, she just doesn't enjoy these things the way she used to. But, needless to say, I know we all still do. What're we still standing around for? Let's go greet, mingle, cause some general havoc, the usual." They all split up differently this time. Blaise and Draco went off to double-team schoolmates, while Em elegantly took Christopher's arm to go break off some of the adults.

"We've go to keep them out. That's all there is to it," a thin, sallow man in black and green was insisting in earnest. "They are weakening the Ministry, the entire system, I tell you!"

"Alexander, it isn't that simple, and you know it. There are matters of blood, honor, and tradition at stake here." A larger man with an athletic build and a patronizing tone made an attempt at reason. He winked at the two young friends' approach to the heated political debate. He was the only one who even noticed their presence.

"Oh, bugger bloody tradition, Walden! Look where it's gotten us: a weak minister with his nose where it never belongs, who isn't half effective even if you bribe him. The Ministry has made far too many allowances in the name of blood, honor, and tradition in these last decades. Foreigners, women, and children, there's a reason that they should stay at home. And you know who ought to be the first to go? That Arthurian Yankee and her daft mother! That's where we need to start." Alexander just then turned to notice Christopher and the lovely young lady on his arm. "Now, Christopher here, Walden, is a fine, strong boy. You will hold you father's place well then the time comes. But why do you force this beautiful thing to listen to the dull politics of men?"

"Oh, Mr...?" Em asked the question innocently with her eyes.

"Nott, my dear," he answered.

"Mr. Nott, I am really fascinated in knowing the minds of the men who care so much for our lovely country." Em pitched her voice up, sounding like every empty-headed trophy-girl she'd ever known.

Alexander Nott threw his head back and gave a surprisingly hearty chuckle. "She's positively charming, Christopher." Christopher smiled and Alexander took Em's hand and gently kissed it. "I'm afraid that I don't know you name, sweetling."

"There's no need to be afraid of little old me, sir." Her British accent dropped. She took up the charming drawl of a Southern belle, "My name is Elizabeth Morgan Nimue Cornwall Gwydion, of the house of Pendragon," Em smiled her sweetest smile, "and my mother sends her regards Mr. Nott, but she was unable to attend." Em looked the older man squarely in the eyes, eyes that widened, though whether in fear or anger, it was impossible to tell. It took a moment or two for him to gather himself enough to speak again. Em noticed that Christopher's father was attempting to hide his smile behind his hand.

"Miss Gwydion, the Pendragon chair has sat vacant quite often of late. It's been so long since I've seen you, I hardly recognized you." Nott was finally able to speak again.

"We have both been kept quite busy by affairs in New Orleans and abroad. Otherwise I would have attended more in her absence."

"Pity. Well, I'm dying to try Narcissa's eggnog, so I must go. Elizabeth, I'd love to tell you, it's been wonderful to see you again-"

"But you'd be lying. Please, Alexander, spare me the insincerity." Nott turned briskly and left. The rest of the group murmured similar responses and dispersed as well. Em turned and kissed Christopher on the cheek. "That was jolly good fun!" Her accent was back to normal. "Let's go find someone else and do it again. It's your turn!"

"Well, Elizabeth, Nott will certainly not be calling you 'weak' again soon," Walden MacNair said, then kissing Em lightly on the cheek.

"Yes, Em, you were fabulous." Despite being the quiet one, Christopher more than appreciated the fine subtleties of public humiliation. He was even quite good at it himself, in his own understated way. "It's a good thing you've been absent so much lately, otherwise, he would have recognized you."

"I know," Em smiled. "Thankfully, I haven't seen that man in over a year, and I've certainly changed since then." She smiled again, fluttering her eyelashes playfully at her friend and his father. "Oh! You hear that? The music's starting up" Christopher turned to Em.

"May I have this dance, milady?"

"But of course, dear sir." The two swept out onto the floor for a light waltz. Christopher was good on his feet, stepping, twirling, and spinning Em around the floor. She held his hand in hers, while his other hand rested against her back, and her other held her dress out of the way. The next dance was a saucy tango with Blaise. He held her close to his lithe body as they swirled across the floor. The Zabinis' month in southern Spain every summer gave Blaise a perfect feel for the music.

As an honorary hostess, Em was obligated to reserve a few dances for the other guests, mostly classmates of the boys. Some of the obligatory dances were better than others Theodore Nott's father worked with Lucius. He was a clever and interesting boy. His very somber character made for unique interaction. Vincent Crabbe, on the other hand, was every stereotype of a big, rich, bumbling idiot. Em cut their dance short, feigning exhaustion and asking for a glass of eggnog. Many other dances followed with both peers and parents, before the musicians stopped for a break.

Em felt a familiar pair of hands brush her shoulders and run down her arms from behind, sending chills through her body. Draco wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned close to whisper in her ear. "I always wonder why you insist on wearing these voluminous muggle skirts, and then I see you dance. You whirl like a tempest, you know? I can't take my eyes off you." Em had always favored extravagant muggle fashions. The surplus of material made her feel like the royalty her blood told her she ought to be. Her full skirt of layered tulle and silk cascaded to the floor, making Em half a metre wider in all directions. The silk corset bodice, impractical for winter, had no sleeves, but Em could feel the heat from Draco's body radiating through the silk lacings that ran down her back. It tied where the bodice met the skirt in a delicate silk bow that Em found herself tugging on from time to time. The shades of deep red, tinged with violet here and there, combined with Em's dark auburn curls, certainly made her a sanguine sight. "Your next dance had better be with me. I think I'm the only one here who hasn't danced with my girlfriend." Draco offered his arm. Em took it.

"It's scary the way you read my mind, love. Sure your old date to the Yule Ball won't mind?"

"Pansy? Of course she will, but is this the face of someone who cares?" Em shook her head. "Of course it isn't."

"But, you know, I must find her later to compliment her gallant, though disgustingly pathetic, attempts to steal you from me. Poor girl never had a chance."

"Merlin's balls, you're amazing!" Draco pulled her close and kissed her right in the middle of the party. And it wasn't just a caressing of the lips. You could feel it, not only in lips and tongues and mouths, but it was also somewhere in your stomach, and in that spot in then back of your skull that sends chills down your spine. Those two were made for each other.

The musicians returned and struck up a slow, fluid waltz. Draco kissed Em's hand and led her to the floor. Amidst the stately dance that a waltz is, Em could feel Draco's fingers weaving into the lacings at her back, his fingertips just brushing her skin. Em sighed, laying her head on Draco's shoulder. For these weeks, she had to worries, no councils, no family, no secrets, no mantle to carry. She wasn't Elizabeth Morgan Nimue Cornwall Gwydion, last heir to the direct Pendragon line. She was just Em, here and now, no past, no future, just this moment. She kissed Draco on the cheek, wrapped her arms around his neck, and stared up into his face. Em only came up to Draco's chin now, and was still shorter, even in heels.

"Just so you know, Draco, I love you."

"Perfect, because I love you, too." He bent down and to kiss her again. Em closed her eyes and saw the stars. She could hear them sing.


End file.
